The Danger of Dragons
by SilyaBeeodess
Summary: One dragon is required to complete the Lao Mang Long Soup, and when Chase Young discovers the existence of a dragon-while acquiring the assistance of a fair warrior-the hunt is on. However, rather than in a battle of strength he finds himself in a contest with his own mind-clashing with his inner demons and what fragments still exist of his soul. Who will fall? Man or beast?
1. Prologue

There was nothing more pitiful than a caged animal that refused to accept the knowledge that it was caged. With a sigh in contempt, Chase opened one of his eyes to watch the mythical creature that paced before the bars of its cell—none too far from where he was trying to meditate. The female dragon's tail occasionally beat against the bars with a metallic twang and despite that she could very well move as stealthily as a cat if she wanted to her sharp claws scraped against the floor's stone surface with every step in impatience and agitation.

Closing his eyes shut once more, he took a breath and spoke with enough emotion to let some of his own irritability slip through. "You should know that pacing won't make time move any faster," he said, "or make my decision come any sooner."

An icy mist seethed through the dragon's clenched fangs as her cold, blue eyes glared venomously at her capture. "It isn't your decision!" she snapped, her voice echoing in his skull. "You have no right to keep me here! Let me out!" She angrily swung her tail against the bars with enough force that the resounding clang rang his ears.

Neither her rage nor the noise rattled him. He merely raised an amused brow to her angry cries. "Oh, really? The terms of my bargain promised me one dragon: I believe you're what's owed to me."

"I belong to no one!" Spreading her jaws apart she released a powerful blast of ice. With ease, Chase leapt from the ground and dodged the incoming attack to land gracefully some ways away. The blast struck the floor and froze it solid, and a wolf-like growl rumbled from the dragon's throat when she saw her attack missed.

"And _that_ won't improve your situation either," Chase added, his voice dripping with warning. "You're not very good at making things easier for yourself, are you?" Approaching the bars, he reached through to place a gloved hand at her side. She spun her neck about to bite him, but only managed to snap at air as he swiftly pulled his hand away in time, nonchalant as always. "Is it in your nature to make things more difficult than necessary?"

"Just as much as it is in your nature to think only of yourself," she retorted. She turned her back on him to face the blank wall behind her.

He nearly laughed, "This coming from such a liar!"

"I lied to protect myself!" she snarled. "You lie only because it suits you."

"Your words hurt," he smirked, leaning against the wall, "And here I was beginning to think you liked me."

He waited for her snide remark in turn, but when none came and she simply walked away to curl around herself in the darkest corner of her cell his smirk fell into a nasty scowl. One never had to worry about their opponent until they fell silent: Those who ranted and raved could never be feared, but silence usually meant something boiling underneath the skin, waiting for the right moment before eruption.

Not that he saw his captive as a threat, but the creature had managed to keep him in the dark for a good, long while. She was a clever, slippery thing—just like most of her kind—and keeping anything hidden from him was enough of a feat to put him on edge. If there was one thing Chase couldn't stand it was being fooled, and she had tried his patience long enough.

"Your… accommodations, can get much worse, I assure you," he continued as he folded his arms behind his back and prepared to leave the dungeons. "So if I were you, I'd make peace with myself in what time you have left. I'll return to collect you in the morning."

As he made his way toward the winding stairwell to head upstairs, he snapped his fingers and two of his jungle cat warriors appeared. Immeadiately, they passed to stand at attention on either side of the stairwell, carefully watching the dragon and ready to act should she somehow manage to break free from her prison.

He only spared a single glance back, carefully musing over the events that had occurred over the past few days. Nothing had gone quite according to plan, but he found himself nonetheless satisfied with the end results. He had his prisoner, Wuya was out of his hair, and the Xiaolin Monks had one less ally on their side. All was going as it should be, and yet…

"Sleep well."

Something felt off. Over and over again, he played the events through he mind to find the source of his troubles.


	2. Chapter 1

He had to admit: All of the combatants were worthy contenders, which was saying much as over the course of the passing centuries the art of combat had seemed to fade into the dark among the majority of society.

It had been a long while since Chase Young had had the opportunity to add another warrior to his collection of the ones trapped in the forms of jungle cats. In the past, he had travelled the globe and battled many fierce opponents—all of whom had fallen and had sworn their loyalty to him in the end, as often the wager was made. If the victor in these contests showed enough sport, he would be eager to test his metal against them and have them join in servitude as well.

In this final match, only two contenders remained: A goliath of a man and a petite, young woman with striking hair of a pale blue. Both held his intrigue, for despite his size and brute strength the man was admirably centered, and despite her small size and apparent weakness the woman was shockingly strong. Neither of their previous opponents had fared well and this final round seemed to drag on. It was indeed anyone's to win.

Standing alongside him near wall farthest from the match—observing from afar—the Heylin witch groaned impatiently. "Why must this take so long?! Watching Jack cry to himself after the electricity blew out in the middle of the night was more entertaining than this!"

He cast an unamused, sidelong glance her way, "If you don't want to watch, you know where the door is."

She scowled, "I'm not just going to wait around for you outside like a dog!"

"You're suggesting you're not a dog?"

She balked at him indignantly, but held back her tongue from a retort. Pushing herself up from the wall, she stalked off, grumbling to herself. "I'm going to the snack bar…"

He couldn't resist. "Right. Because all you need are a few more added pounds." A smug grin crossed his face when a shrill cry of rage seethed through her clenched teeth as she continued to walk away. Of course she wouldn't dare to strike back: Without her powers, she was nothing but a worthless hag. What martial arts she knew might fair enough to battle against the young Xiaolin monks—mere children—but they were futile against him.

As the crowd in the rows ahead screamed in excitement, he returned his attention to the match. Blue-hair grabbed hold of the goliath's wrist to swing him about in the air and toss him across the ring like a child's plaything. Yes, she was exceedingly strong and proud of it, waving at the crowd with a winning smile. A brief chant arose from her audience and someone even tossed a flower her way. Clearly she was a favorite among this lot. The woman caught the flower with one hand to then bite the tip of its stem and give a flirtatious wink in the direction of the giver. Those facing her went wild: He merely rolled his reptilian eyes in distain. She had confidence, but over-confidence only meant incompetence.

And there couldn't have been a better example of such incompetence then having her back turned to her opponent before he was down. Blue-hair didn't even see the attack coming until it was too late—one well dealt punch to the gut. The force behind the blow knocked her right off of her feet and sent her flying to the opposite side of the ring in a heap. More people booed than applauded this action, and the crowd returned to its former swell of excitement when the miss stood up once more. Once she was back on her feet, she spat at the floor before her opponent and grinned wickedly, saying something to him that Chase couldn't hear over the roar of the masses.

Whatever she said, it riled the goliath enough that he let out an angry scream and charged at her. This time when she smiled, Chase smiled as well. Perhaps she wasn't completely incompetent after all.

She waited until the last possible moment before dodging the attack with an elegant dive overhead to land in a graceful crouch behind him while the goliath crashed into the ropes. Chase's eye widened with interest, having not yet seen her use acrobatics. But the audience cheered at the rare treat they were given.

He felt akin to a child at a pet store. That one: He wanted that one. He could envision her as a tiger already, with all the strength and stealth she would possess in human form. Outfitted with the right weapons and armor, she would make a fine warrior to add to his collection.

Even still, he controlled his eagerness and chose to wait at least for the match to end—no matter how clear the outcome seemed for now.

The goliath swung his leg in a low sweep to knock blue-hair off balance, succeeding because she once again failed to pay attention. Rather than deterring her, however, he made her laugh. He dove down to put her in a hold that would end the match, but—planting her hands palm down on the floor back behind her head to steady herself—she kicked forward with both feet to knock him away, beaming. She had a zeal for combat: Chase could see it in her eyes. It wouldn't be difficult in the slightest to get her to agree to a battle against him—nor the terms of the wager, not with her sense of pride.

One strike of her fist to his temple and the goliath crashed to the floor in a heap. Blue-hair bowed to her cheering admirers as they chanted her name. "Rena! Rena! Rena!"

"Well, Rena," Chase spoke softly, getting up from his place near the wall as he watched the master of ceremonies take her by the hand and raise it high in the air for all to see. "You better have enough fight in you left for one more battle: You're going to need it." With that, he moved forward to challenge her.

However, the crowd seemed to close around him just for the soul purpose of blocking his path as they stood, all longing the attention of the victor. He scowled, forcing his way through him. He could still catch sight of her, talking with the master of ceremonies—no doubt discussing the subject of her winnings. The purpose of these contests of strength revolved around one thing and one thing only for the competitors—money. For many of them, these matches were the center of their livelihood. In fact, Chase was almost certain that if he approached any of the lesser combatants, they would gladly swear their loyalty to him in order to escape poverty. But he only wanted the best to serve him.

He was almost to the ring. He opened his mouth to shout at the woman, but was abruptly cut off by something being shoved in front of his nose. "I got you a hot dog: Eat and enjoy," Wuya's bitter voice sounded next to his ear.

He turned to snarl at the witch. "Get that disgusting filth out of my face and stand aside!" he ordered, slapping it out of her grasp.

She scowled, "Oh sure. The one time I do something even remotely nice for anyone and you have to complain. See, this is why I'm an evil sorceress!"

He ignored her ranting, turning once more to the ring, but the woman was nowhere in sight—having already left with the master of ceremonies. People began to clear the building from either side and the custodians began to clean the bleachers.

A beast-like growl resounded from his throat. Spinning on his heel, he turned to leave as well. No matter: She was likely to turn up again. This only delayed the inevitable.

He walked on, not caring whether or not the old witch followed him.


End file.
